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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414532">Hair As Memorial: An Anthropological Case Study (Among Other Things)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/omniBat/pseuds/omniBat'>omniBat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amami Rantaro is a Supportive friend, Aromantic Asexual Shinguji Korekiyo, But he'll be okay dont worry, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Korekiyo is not a serial killer, Post-Game, Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3, Shinguji Korekiyo is in therapy, Shinguji Korekiyo-centric, Touch-replused Shinguji Korekiyo, it just vaguely references what we learn in canon, no romantic relationships, theres nothing explicit at all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:49:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/omniBat/pseuds/omniBat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of V3, everyone is recovering from their various issues in their own ways. Rantaro and Korekiyo become close, and spend their mornings together, talking and sipping tea.<br/>One night, Korekiyo is overtaken by grief and a storm of other, even more complicated emotions, and he hacks off his hair. Rantaro finds him, and helps him pick up the pieces.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amami Rantaro &amp; Shinguji Korekiyo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hair As Memorial: An Anthropological Case Study (Among Other Things)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite the fact that he doesn’t do his makeup anymore, Korekiyo still snaps awake at five every morning out of habit. Rantaro enjoys the morning light, and he likes to keep his friend company. So the two of them start a new routine. Every morning they brew some tea to drink while they sit on a bench outside their school, watching the sun come up as they sip slowly at their drinks. In the cool air, they can see the steam that rises from their cups as it dissipates into the misty morning. </p>
<p>“Even as sick as she was, she managed to control every aspect of my life. Maybe because I was younger. She decided how I dressed, how I behaved, she’s even the reason I’m an anthropologist. Anthropology is half my identity. The other half is based around her in other ways. How do you move on from that? When the only things you ever cared about, every facet of your sense of self from a very young age, was based around your abuser. What do you do then? I’m… nothing.”</p>
<p>There's a pause, Rantaro hums to show that he’s thinking. He knows he has to be careful about what he says next. “I know what you mean... At least, I think I do. I could never fully ‘know’, you know? But, yeah, I really can’t articulate how difficult that must be for you. But, um… I can tell you who <em> I </em>think you are…”</p>
<p>He hears Korekiyo shift, and glances over to see the boy looking at him, eyes curious and expectant.</p>
<p>“Well… I think you’re incredibly compassionate, to start with. Like, I know you don’t see humanity the way you used to. I know that you see humans as disgusting and cruel, which is perfectly understandable, and in some cases, you’re right. But I think that, at your core, you care very deeply for people. And I think there’s a lot of value in that. Um… what else…” He pauses and taps his chin as he thinks. Korekiyo is still looking at him in that way he does when he’s listening. His gaze is almost intimidating. He looks as if he’s hanging onto every word, which would usually make anyone nervous. But at the same time, he seems patient. Rantaro doesn’t feel rushed, or like he’s being judged for his pauses or speech patterns. As weird as he is, Korekiyo has always been a person with a surprisingly calm energy. “I think that… you are your own person. I think that your hobbies and interests are your own. They don’t have to be… a <em> manifestation </em> of your sister, I guess? It’s always seemed to me like you genuinely love anthropology. I don’t think it has to be you living your sister’s life for her, or just, like, blindly carrying out her wishes. Augh... does this make <em> any </em> sense? I’m just trying to say that I think your interest in anthropology was never <em> just </em>for your sister’s sake. I think that, if you want to, you can enjoy anthropology without… living in her shadow. Do you… do you know what I mean?”</p>
<p>Korekiyo looks away from him again, stares straight ahead at the sunrise. “I think so.” He pulls his knees closer to his chest, and rests his chin atop them. </p>
<p>“Just remember, too… That we’re all still so young. None of us are fully developed people yet. You have so much time to forge an identity of your own. You can try out all sorts of new things, and every interaction you have is a building block of who you are. Before you know it, you’re your own person. It’s scary, but...” He smiles at him. “We’re all here for you, y’know?” </p>
<p>He hears Korekiyo chuckle under his breath. “Hm, I suppose you’re correct.” He smiles at him, which Rantaro only knows because of the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. He still wears masks in public, they make him more comfortable. He’s still not used to showing his face without them. He wears regular ones, though, made of simple cotton and lacking a suspicious-looking zipper. He also lowers them to eat and drink, though he doesn’t really like eating in public very much. </p>
<p>In contrast, his hair is extremely short now. In a fit of heartbroken rage one night, he’d found a pair of scissors and tearfully sheared the hair off his head. He’d reached a point in his recovery where he was just starting to realize the gravity of his situation. The romantic, star-crossed lovers story his sister told him crumbled, and what was left was the truth: the story of a severely abused and traumatized child. Where he’d once seen beauty in humanity, he could only think of its ugly cruelty. He despised humanity, he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror. (It wasn’t always himself he saw.) And yet, he still felt indebted to Her. That might have been the worst part of it all. </p>
<p>In the middle of the night, he became overtaken with visceral disgust at the feeling of what felt like Her hair all over him, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d been keeping it long as a tribute to her, but he couldn’t bear keeping it that way any longer. It was just a reminder of all of the terrible things in life. A reminder of the horrors humanity was capable of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rantaro found him not long after the deed was done. He walked into the bathroom and saw Korekiyo sitting on the floor surrounded by long black hair all over the tile. The cut was sloppy and crooked, and Rantaro had never seen Korekiyo so emotional. His soul was in pieces, scattered across the floor with his hair. He was sobbing violently, he sounded absolutely broken. Like a wolf abandoned by its pack, or just… a person who’d been through everything Korekiyo had been through. </p>
<p>Rantaro had never seen <em> anyone </em>in such a state before. He approached cautiously, and gently pried the scissors from Korekiyo’s grip. The boy continued to wail as Rantaro put the sharp object out of reach. </p>
<p>“Korekiyo?” Rantaro made his voice as soft as he could, while still being heard. “Korekiyo, can you hear me? Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>Korekiyo seemed to realize he was there for the first time. He shook his head, and then pressed his hands to his temples. </p>
<p>“Okay, that’s good then, right? One thing we don’t have to worry about. Can you stand? Do you wanna go somewhere more comfortable than the floor?”</p>
<p>Something about that question seemed to upset him, because he just broke down further. </p>
<p>“Okay! Okay, we’ll sit here, then. Um, if you want me to stay, that is.”</p>
<p>Between sobs, Korekiyo choked out a “<em> w-whatever…” </em>He grabbed at his scalp, trying to hold onto hair that was no longer there. And then he screamed, remembering again what he’d done. Guilt thundered in his chest. His sister gave him so much… how could he cast her aside like this, and so easily? But maybe he did the right thing... he was still so attached to her, and that made him feel a different kind of guilt, bundled with disgust in himself and everyone else. He should hate her, he thinks, she did terrible things to him. But maybe he shouldn’t hate her? Maybe he should hate the people who are driving them apart. That’s what she would’ve thought. And his sister was always right. She only wants what’s best for him, and they want to take her away from him! They want to rid him of her spirit! How dare they! His heart was torn in the other direction again as Korekiyo remembered the encouraging words of his friends, and maybe they were right after all. This was all too much to take! He couldn’t handle it any longer!</p>
<p>The sound of Korekiyo’s scream bounced off the tiled walls and tore Rantaro’s heart to shreds. “Hey, hey, hey,” Rantaro sat down a couple feet from him, and tried to be soothing. “It’s okay. Take deep breaths, alright? You’ll be okay, I promise.” Korekiyo’s knees were pulled into his chest, his head tucked between them as his hands repeatedly grasped his remaining hair. But Rantaro heard him start to breathe slower and deeper. Progress, he supposed.</p>
<p>They spent almost an hour on the floor together, not touching, not talking. Korekiyo obviously wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation or even listen to Rantaro talk, and he’d been repulsed by any sort of touch recently, so Rantaro kept his distance. When he started to quiet down, Rantaro told him, in a soft voice, some stories about his travels around the world. Eventually Korekiyo began to pipe up and make comments about the regions and cultures Rantaro mentioned. </p>
<p>When there was a lull in the conversation, he saw Korekiyo lift a hand to his hair, feeling the damage he’d done.</p>
<p>“Um,” Rantaro started, “I have some experience cutting hair. If you’d like, I could even yours out for you… only if you want me to, of course.”</p>
<p>After a long moment, Korekiyo nodded, just barely perceptible. “That’d be… nice. Thanks.”</p>
<p>Rantaro helped Korekiyo to his feet and walked him to his room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before breakfast the next morning, Rantaro went back to Korekiyo’s room with his electric clippers and a good pair of scissors. The two were quiet as Rantaro carefully cut his hair into a nice, short style. Korekiyo kept his eyes closed the whole time, until Rantaro directed him to look in the mirror. </p>
<p>Despite the guilt sitting like lead in his stomach, he found he didn’t hate his new haircut. He even removed his mask to see his reflection more clearly. For the first time in years, he saw <em> himself </em> when he looked in the mirror. Huh. He’d… kind of forgotten what he looked like. He saw his own features staring back at him, his nose, lips, <em> his eyes </em>. They were his, and his alone. He didn’t see anyone else in the mirror, no one lurking behind his eyes.</p>
<p>Well, there was one other person. Rantaro was standing behind him, looking apprehensive. “Oh, no, I’m sorry- I made it worse, didn’t I?”</p>
<p>Korekiyo realized he was tearing up. “Oh, no, it’s… it’s wonderful. It’s… <em> me </em>. Thank you, Rantaro.”</p>
<p>Rantaro sighed, relieved. “I… I’m really glad to hear that.”</p>
<p>“I must apologize for last night. I was… not myself.”</p>
<p>Rantaro smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “We all have our moments. And I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do, it makes perfect sense to me.”</p>
<p>The two were quiet for a few moments as Korekiyo continued to regard himself in the mirror. Then he spoke, and he sounded so much like the Korekiyo they all knew. “Rantaro, are you familiar with the expression ‘memento mori’?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that before. Why?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you know, then, that it is a latin phrase that roughly translates to, ‘remember you will die.’ People living in England during the Victorian era were very interested in the concept of death. They thought it important to remember our own mortality. People had very interesting practices when it came to death, including their methods of memorial and remembrance. One not-uncommon way of honoring a loved one’s memory was by preserving their hair in the form of artwork, or jewelry. People would weave strands of hair together, or embroider it into fabric to put in a locket. Hair lasts far longer than most organic materials, so it wouldn’t decompose, at least not easily. I’ve seen this jewelry myself. It’s quite beautiful and poetic, in my opinion. A lot of cultures see hair as significant when it comes to the self. Some consider hair to be part of one’s identity, and believe that losing it is like losing a piece of oneself. So the idea of weaving hair into beautiful works of art is a wonderful kind of symbolism.” He paused, and chuckled to himself. “Keheh… it seems that I’ve wandered off on a tangent. But… I think you understand what I’m saying.” </p>
<p>Rantaro did understand. At least, he was pretty sure he did. He nodded.</p>
<p>“Thank you again, Rantaro.” Korekiyo stood to face him, and smiled. “Last night, I felt as if I’d done something unforgivable, like I’d cast aside a part of myself without having anywhere to go next. But… seeing what you’ve done here-” He looked over at the mirror again, and made eye contact with himself. “-you’ve reassured me, somewhat. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Rantaro returned his smile, and the two of them walked to breakfast together. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Korekiyo sighs, pulling Rantaro back into the present. The sun has risen a little higher, his tea has grown a little colder. They sit in silence for a while longer, sipping at their tea and breathing the fresh air.</p>
<p>The anthropologist looks a little nervous when he next speaks. “I apologize again for, ah, <em> venting </em> to you so often.”</p>
<p>With a shrug and wave of his hand, Rantaro dismisses the thought. “Hey, honestly, it’s fine! If I ever feel overwhelmed, I’ll let you know. And I know you’d listen to whatever BS <em> I </em> wanted to talk about.”</p>
<p>There’s a pause. Rantaro takes a sip of his tea. He drums his fingers against the mug as he swallows, making his rings clink against the ceramic. “Besides,” He says, “I like listening to you talk. You have interesting things to say, I like hearing your, like, lectures.”</p>
<p>Korekiyo chuckles, and Rantaro realizes that his friend is blushing. “I feel the same way about you. You are also interesting.” Rantaro laughs at his wording, and Korekiyo looks down into his cup, lost in thought.</p>
<p>Spending time with Rantaro is probably the best part of Korekiyo’s day. Because despite the fact that his classmates seem happy to see him every morning at breakfast, Korekiyo sometimes worries they’re lying. After all, who could bear to be around someone as creepy and tainted as he is? Sometimes he worries that they’re just pretending to like him because it’s the polite thing to do.</p>
<p>But when he’s sitting outside with Rantaro in the morning light, and Rantaro is listening closely to his stories and <em> laughing at his jokes </em>, that concern seems far away. He reminds himself of the good times he’s had with his friends, experiences he wouldn’t have had if they didn’t actually like him. Life is often painful and difficult, but he knows that with friends like his, he’ll be okay. They’ll make sure of it. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tbh im tempted to post a fic where i just ramble about korekiyo, and my headcanons about his recovery...... idk why, i just rlly care about him.<br/>the first i heard about him was on the wiki because it said something about him being one of the characters who's into their sibling/relative, and i was like "yuck" and made fun of him<br/>but then i saw a comic about him and mukuro and i was like "oh wait maybe hes like her, ill stop making fun of him for now"<br/>and then i played the game, and saw his first two free time events, and was like "hey okay... theres something i kinda like about this guy for some reason, hes kinda neat"<br/>and then i saw his trial/execution, and i was like, "well thats pretty ick but hes obviously the victim here... he deserves better, he doesn't seem like a bad guy"<br/>anyway thank you so much for reading, comments are always super appreciated ;;</p></blockquote></div></div>
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